


Lose Yourself

by LaughingArcher42



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, He's injured, Illusions, Lance in the Blade of Marmora suit, Langst, M/M, No explicit descriptions tho, Pining Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 14:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11443176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingArcher42/pseuds/LaughingArcher42
Summary: “His suit has the ability to create a virtual mindscape, reflecting its wearer’s greatest hopes and fears“





	Lose Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is based on [this awesome artwork](https://viiperfish.tumblr.com/post/159399098789/his-suit-has-the-ability-to-create-a-virtual) by [@viiperfish](https://viiperfish.tumblr.com) on tumblr. I really liked the idea of Lance in the BoM suit, and was kinda struck with sudden inspiration today, so I wrote this up. Enjoy!

Lance felt like he couldn’t breathe. Maybe he couldn’t. He was on the ground crawling slowly. Or perhaps he was simply floating through nothingness. It was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. He’d already seen a vision of the whole Earth, and inevitably his family, being overrun by the Galra, helpless to stop it. He shuddered again quietly, unwilling to relive it again. He kept crawling.

The fabric of the suit he was wearing was starting to chafe, the glowing metal at his neck and hips felt heavy and cold. He could vaguely recognize the blood smearing behind him in a macabre trail behind him. There was blood on his forehead dripping down, some of it already drying. If he had all his wits about him, he was sure he’d be grossed out by that, but he can’t muster the energy. He can hardly muster the energy to crawl anymore. In fact, he can’t, now that he thinks about it.

With a sudden heave Lance collapses on the ground. He ignores the disgusting _splat_ he makes, in favor of savoring the sudden reprieve from endless crawling. Eventually Lance is fed up with soaking his face in a puddle of his own sweat and blood, so he rolls over with a grunt.

Staring at the ceiling, Lance can feel his energy wane even further. Keeping his eyes open is a chore. His breaths come shallow and slow, trying to use as little effort as possible to get enough oxygen into him. The roof above him isn’t particularly exciting, but he figures it’s better than the floor.

He’s feeling himself slowly slip away before a sudden noise in front of him tears his eyes open.

He feels heavy with lethargy, but Lance manages to sit up on his elbows, only to be met with the sight of Keith kneeling in front of him. He’s not wearing his paladin armor like he was earlier, and he kind of looks like he’s glowing, but Lance can’t bring himself to question that. It’s _Keith_ , sitting in front of him, with a soft expression on his face. Lance could almost call it fond. He hears Keith chuckle quietly before he shifts closer to Lance, just a bit.

“You did pretty well, cargo pilot.” Keith cocks his head, a small smirk on his lips. “The Blade seemed surprised, but I knew you had it in you.” Lance blinks at him, unsure of what to say. Keith takes it in stride, still looking at him with that fond expression, and scooting closer still. His knees are touching Lance’s feet now.

“They sent me down here to get you, since the test is over now. Figured you could use a friendly face after all that.” Lance still can’t manage to get any words out, but he nods weakly, and attempts a faint smile. Keith laughs, and it’s almost a borderline giggle. Lance thinks it sounds heavenly, even though he’s sure he probably looks absurd right now.

They fall into a heavy silence, and Lance thinks perhaps the air around them shifted somehow, because he feels tense all of a sudden. Keith’s face slips from a teasing smile to a contemplative scowl. He’s fiddling with his hands in his lap, almost nervously. Lance finds it incredibly endearing.

“I was scared, you know.” Lance finds himself speechless again, caught entirely off guard. He gazes at Keith, who’s staring at him now, his face set in this determined look that he gets when he’s about to face something particularly challenging.

“W-what scared y-you?” Lance manages to croak out the small question, feeling a little perplexed. Keith chuckles, but this time it sounds a bit hollow, and maybe bitter.

“You scared me, you dummy. I…” Keith trails off, his voice cracking as he moves closer to Lance. He’s in between his legs now. “I was afraid you were going to die out there,” he whispers, sounding softer and far more vulnerable than Lance had ever heard him.

Suddenly Keith’s leaning forward now, closer into Lance’s space. Lance’s mouth is dry. Was it always dry? This doesn’t feel right. He feels like he can’t think, the space between him and Keith closing quickly. In some ironic twist, despite his brain muddled by the boy leaning towards him, he manages to have his first clear thought in what feels like ages.

_This isn’t real._

It hits him like a ton of bricks, and if he wasn’t already short of breath, he think’s he’d be wheezing now. It repeats over and over in his mind, like some kind of mantra. Keith is no more than a few inches away from him, warm breath washing over Lance’s lips. And despite the screaming in his head, that _he’s not real_ , Lance can’t bring himself to pull away entirely. Isn’t this what he’s wanted for so long?

He can almost feel Keith’s mouth on his, so he shuts his eyes, unwilling to watch him close the distance between them. _It’s not real._ But it feels that way. _It’s not real, it’s not real._ He can feel Keith hesitating right in front of him, no more than a hair’s length away. _It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real!_ His lips brush against Lance’s as he whispers, “ _I love you._ ” Lance whispers back, “ _You’re not real_ ,” his voice desperate and cracking, unwilling to say it back like he wants to. His eyes are still shut tight, and he’s not sure he wants to open them.

Keith finally presses closer, kissing him softly. Lance doesn’t move at first, not wanting to give in to the illusion. But the longer Keith stays pressed against him, the more he thinks about how soft his lips are, and how nice it would be to run a hand through his hair, and before he knows it his fingers are tangled in dark locks. He wonders if it’s wrong to lose himself to this, if he shouldn’t indulge himself in this if he knows _it’s not real_. But the gentle press of Keith, _Keith, Keith,_ against him makes it hard to focus.

He loses himself in it.

And when he wakes with a painful groan, the ceiling shaking, alarms blaring over the sound of Blue roaring just outside the base, he can’t help the few tears that slip down his face.


End file.
